Ten Things to Know About Tony Stark
by RandomFanatic
Summary: Here are ten aspects of Tony Stark. Written for the Ten Things Challenge.
1. Baseball

**Title: Ten Things To Know About Tony Stark **

**Summary: ... these are ten things about Tony Stark... the end. **

**Disclaimer: I... still don't own them.**

**In response to the Ten Things challenge on the forum from Misgiving Writer :D **

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><p>Tony was ten years old.<p>

It was raining.

He was surrounded by his team mates, wearing the itchy, too-tight grey baseball pants and the scratchy shirt and the baseball cap.

After much consideration and insisting from Tony's mother, his father had signed him up for a recreational baseball team.

So here they were, at a little baseball field in Long Island, and Tony was up to bat next. It was the last inning, and the two teams were tied. He was really nervous. His dad (because his mom told him to) had taken the day off for his game. He wanted to make him proud.

The helmet was too big. It wobbled around on his head uncomfortably. The other boys seemed to be a lot bigger than him, but he knew for a fact that they didn't understand the _science_ of hitting a baseball. They were too dumb to understand that.

He picked up the bat and went up to the plate. He could see his parents sitting in the bleachers, two bodyguards holding umbrellas above them.

They looked out of place in this environment. It wasn't their natural habitat. His mother was dressed in a nice red v-neck shirt and a black skirt with black high heels, her silky black hair up in a tight bun and a pearl necklace around her neck. His father wore a red tie and a suit. Tony smiled at them. His mother smiled back. His father checked his watch.

Tony looked at the pitcher as he threw the first ball.

"Strike one!" Tony shot a look at the umpire, who ignored him.

They pitcher threw another ball, and Tony forgot to swing.

"Ball!" he guessed it was a good thing.

The pitcher threw another, and Tony swung, just then realizing how awkward it was to swing such a large hunk of metal.

"Strike two!" he looked at his mom, who smiled encouragingly and gave him the thumbs up. His father was talking on the phone.

The pitcher threw again, and this time, Tony swung early, holding the bat in front of the ball until it hit it. Then he ran. He got to first base. The catcher scrambled to get the ball, and tripped himself up. He got to second base. The catcher tried throwing it to the pitcher, but the pitcher missed it, and it was sent rolling away. He was running for third. The pitcher picked the ball up and tried throwing to the third basemen, but he put too much force behind it and it flew over the basemen's head.

Tony ran for home.

And he got there. His team cheered and he was beaming. His breath was coming a little hard, but that didn't matter. He had just won the game for his team. The game was finished, and he could go home, and his dad might even be proud of him.

He looked over to his mom. She was standing and clapping, making the guard work to keep the umbrella over her. His father was gone.

Tony frowned.

He gathered his water bottle and went over to join his mother.

"Where's dad?" he asked, looking around.

"He, uh, he had to go to work, sweetie. But I'm sure he'll be proud of you," She told him, smiling reassuringly.

A terrible, wrenching feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach. His father had to go to work. He had to go to work, right as Tony won the game. He had to go work, instead of watching him play. Tony looked down, blinking at his feet and trying not to cry. It was ridiculous- so his dad had to go to work? So what? That doesn't matter? Who cares? But Tony cared. _He got a homerun. _He was trying to be the son that his dad wanted, but how was he supposed to do that when he was always being ignored.

"It's okay, Tony. Let's go celebrate! Would you like some ice cream?" Tony shook his head. His mom frowned.

"Let's just go home, mom."

Tony never touched a bat again.


	2. Superhero

**So it's been a really long time...**

**but I'm going to finish this eventually.  
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**This chapter is titled _Superhero_  
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><p>Tony had always wanted to be a superhero when he was little.<p>

He would zoom around the house with a red blanket tied around his neck and a pair of his Dad's science goggles drooping down on his nose. The maids would chuckle and step back to make room for him to run by their carts.

He would spend hours setting up pyramids of cans, to throw his shield at them and send them crashing to the floor.

His shield was his most prized possession at the time. He had taken a piece of cardboard and a giant compass and made it perfectly circular. He cut it out with scissors and covered it with duct tape. It was still pliable, but it was good enough for Little Tony. After hours of measuring and putting marks on it, he outlined the stripes and single star, and colored it in with permanent marker. He took an old jacket of his and cut two strips from it. He put these on the underside and duct taped them in place. He slid his arm through the straps and held it in front of himself, checking it out in the mirror. He was very proud of his shield.

Along with his shield, he would also wear his favorite t-shirt—one that was three sizes too big and was blue and had one star, smack dab in the middle of his chest (where the arc reactor would eventually go).

In the garden, he would put up handmade cardboard cut outs of enemies, and even have the help hide behind them and move the targets around, so Tony could play his game.

"Freeze, you HYDRA scum! You have met your match!" he would shout, throwing the shield at the cutout. The help, when hit, would crouch down and make sounds like they were dying.

Tony found this very entertaining, and would play until dark, at which time he would go to dinner. His dinner time didn't depend on when his parents ate because they were always very busy and didn't want to bother him. He would eat alone at the long, empty dining table.

His shield would be placed on the table in front of the chair next to him.

At one point, he had acquired reddish-brown gardening gloves, and he had washed these until they were bright red again. He took these off and set them on top of his shield. The sounds of his silverware clanking against his plate echoed through the empty dining hall.

One sunny summer day, he set up an obstacle course for him to run before 'fighting' the enemies. A bucket, an array of rakes and shovels, and few boxes were set in a line so he could jump them in quick succession. He practiced a couple times before getting his shield and putting on his gloves.

He had a running start before jumping the first bucket and onto a box, on which he balanced for a moment before continuing. The rakes were lain down longwise, so he jumped really hard and screwed his eyes shut, exhaling heavily when he landed.

That was a close one.

As he focused on the task of getting through his obstacle, Tony didn't notice his Dad coming up behind him, talking on the phone and walking backwards. Howard was also completely oblivious to Tony, and was shocked when he tripped over the bucket and was sent sprawling to the ground, landing on his back.

"TONY! GODDAMMIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Tony froze, his shoulders tensing up toward his ears as he turned around slowly, his eyes large.

"I-I-" he started, only to be cut off by his father.

"No. Just, go to your room," his Dad said, grabbing his phone from the ground. "And… get rid of that shield. No son of mine is going to waste his time running around playing make believe. I expect better from you."

"But Dad!"

"No. Buts. I don't have time for this. The help doesn't either—they have a job to do. So do you, actually. Now go study or something. As long as you don't make noise. Go. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. And I don't want to see that shield or that shirt ever again."

Tony was nearly in tears by now. He tried to glare at his father, but his eyes were watering too much to be taken seriously, so he whined loudly and crossed his arms, stomping toward the door.

"And don't even think about trying to hide that thing! I'll find it and I'll burn it!"

Tony screamed a little at that, and started wailing as he ran to his room. He slammed the door and threw his shield against the far wall. His mind was already racing to think of a hiding spot his Dad wouldn't be able to find. Or, more accurately, the servant his Dad would send to search for it. His head hurt from crying so hard, so he flopped on his bed and hid his face in the covers.

After he settled down, he started to think of all the places he could hide.

Under his bed would be an obvious place for anyone to look, and same with in his closet. The top shelf isn't wide—one end of the shield would stick out off the edge any way he put it. His Dad knew about the secret compartment in the floor in his closet. Under his dresser and he'd never be able to get it back out. Behind the headboard would also be an obvious place.

Wait…

His _Dad_ knew about the secret compartment, but his _Dad_ wouldn't be the one looking. The rug by his door could be moved to further conceal the compartment.

Tony jumped off the bed, excited, and pulled the compartment open. He ran over to where he threw his shield, and back, to carefully place it in the hollow.

He went about the entire room, pulling down posters of Captain America, taking action figures off the shelves, grabbing his comic books and newspaper headings and pictures, and placed these, too, into the hollow. He took off his shirt and deposited it, too, before closing it and placing the rug over it.


End file.
